


i keep trying to lose

by redrocketracer



Category: Original Work, Poetry - Fandom, original poetry
Genre: Death, Gen, Grief, Mental Hospitals, Poetry, Sex, Sexual Assault, Suicide Attempts, Vents, venting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2018-12-03 04:52:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11524935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redrocketracer/pseuds/redrocketracer
Summary: my journal i guess. just a place for me to write my feelings.





	1. Chapter 1

I remember one time  
Being in the mental hospital  
In blue scrubs and those little socks  
They asked me how i'm feeling  
And i looked at everyone around me  
Remembered how alone i felt  
How wrong it felt to wake up  
To smile, to talk, to eat,  
How i felt like i didnt belond  
Even here with all the fucking crazies  
I looked down at my daily inventory  
Tried to stifle the tears that we threatening to escape  
And answered as honestly as i could  
"I feel like an alien"  
I didnt belong there  
But i didnt belong outside of there either  
Maybe i wasnt meant to be on planet earth  
Maybe i wasnt meant to be alive  
And with that in mind i have  
A bottle of pills resting under my bed  
Just in case i ever want to return home 


	2. things that break my heart

The way he said goodbye. A finalization. A realization. That there is no way to help. A stern: take care of yourself, but this is where I part ways. Call your doctor in the morning. Goodbye. I cannot help you love yourself, for that is all you.  
   
I don't think i'll ever love myself.  
   
I lay on my bed, curling into myself. Wishing this didn't happen. No one's supposed to see me like this. Does anyone actually care? No one likes sad girls. No one likes an ugly heart. I have to be happy, right? Thats the ideal human. Pure smiles on their lips and in their hearts and eyes. I am not sunshine I am rain. My heart is tearful and torn and my mouth is a forced upturn of the lips. My eyes are so dark you can't tell, they're devoid of life. They've been dreary skies for days. Grey with little puffs of clouds.  
   
I think my heart has been broken for years and years. I don't know if there is a way to mend it now. It's too late.  
   
“You're sad, you may put up a front, but you're sad.”  
  
I am.

The way it felt while I was sucking his dick. As if it was the most beautiful thing ever to be praised for such a task. The little noises escaping my mouth, the way it felt to cause someone else pleasure. The way I collapsed as he tried to enter me. Screaming no, no, stop. He stops. Pulls up his pants and leaves.  
  
Is this all i'll ever be? A good fuck, someone to release sexual desire into? Sometimes I feel like I should sell my body. Ask for money, since this is my worth. I cry into freckled, tanned hands. I whisper for him not to to leave. He does. This is my worth. Nothing more than a release of repressed sexual frustration.  
  
I am nothing.  
  
The state if my room, the fact that I smoke, don't leave the house for days, the flies buzzing around the apartment, the scent of old laundry and unwashed dishes. “You're not happy, it's evident through everything you do.” Obvious signs that I don't really care about or notice. They've just become a part of my life. Do I care enough to wake up today? Should I bother doing my hair? Should I clean? If i'm not doing it for someone else, what's the point? Might as well turn over and pretend not to be alive. Who really gives a fuck.

No one. I surely don't.

  
The fresh cuts on my arm. I wake up numb, little slivers for eyes staring blankly at the wall. I can't speak clearly for a few hours. I avoid looking at my first loves picture. Avoid staring at his beautiful eyes. Green, sometimes with a bit of honey in them. The ones they donated to some unfortunate person who needed them more after he passed. I can't cry at first. I'm numb. I gather Zach's picture into my arms. Talk to him. Apologize over and over. And then suddenly I am weeping. Big, salty tears rolling down my cheeks

  
I smash the picture frame. Collect the shattered glass in my hands and slash it down my arms. Over and over. Little slices on my wrists and hands. They're just surface cuts. But I yearn for them to be deeper, to hit a vein, to bleed out. I stare at his picture and beg him to take me with him. To a better place. Why did he leave me?  
  
“It's obvious it's Zach.” Matt says after I faint on the couch. I tell him no, no, that's not it.

I'm ok.

  
Have I ever been?

  
This current moment. Not the past or the future. Here and now. Matt asks me where the trauma started and ends. I can't even formulate a response because I'm too consumed in the way my hand is shaking. I can't feel my thumb brushing against my pointer finger. Why is Matt looking at me like that? Why can't I just go to sleep. Why won't he just leave me.  
  
I just want this moment to end. I just want everything to end. It's not the past or future. It's now. It's the feelings I have when I press my lips to his, it's the feeling of anxiety twisting in my chest as he pries and pokes and prods. It's the feeling of not being good enough. It's these feelings right here in this moment that I just can't make stop.  
   
 


	3. a lowly sunflower

He was outer space  
specks of stardust in soft black hair  
eyes burning with the energy of a sun  
freckles a constellation and lips the color of   
a bursting, scorching red star

I was lowly  
stuck down to earth, a yellow sunflower  
sucking in his golden rays  
dying with the change of harsh climate  
rebirth when earth gets warm

I wish I was a sun and not a flower  
wish I did not rely on his heat  
the earths breath,  
the humble soil

I wish I wasn’t a flower


	4. a sweet brew

  
You are like honey   
and I am bitter tea   
we are a sweet brew  
it’s been this way   
for what feels like  
years and years  
but maybe it’s only intimate  
minutes at a time   
we’re like a steamy  
curl of heat   
on a winters day

My foot brushes against   
your ankles and socks  
my nose buries into the crook  
of your neck

You press soft,  
warm kisses to the   
cold, iced over muscle   
that is my beating heart  
frozen forever  
slowly melting over

I never want to leave   
the space we made   
where you sweeten  
my bitter cool


	5. laundry rooms

"I've been trapped" She says. Eyeliner smeared down her cheeks. Lipstick smudged.

 

"I've been trapped between four walls. A confinement in my head. A prisoner to my own self" 

 

He extends his hand out of the broken window of the laundry room. It's simple. Light filtering in through the branches that sway ever so gently. Sun hitting the folliage, but there is beauty in simplicity.

 

"It's never too late, you know." He pipes in. Her dark brown eyes dart up to him. Then out the window. She steps forward and gazes at the life outside of the laundry room.

 

"I look like shit." And she does. Hair tangled in a curly mess. Makeup ruined from tears and rubbing her countenance in her pillow.

 

"You look beautiful." He says, pausing.

 

"The choice is yours." And he turns his back from her. Leaving her in the confines, the four walls of the laundry room.

 

She blinks at it, the dim lighting, the whirring of the washing machine.

 

She follows after.


	6. everything and everyone

I am everything and everyone but also no one all at once. We are all one being with different brains and physical displays but the same main functions and similar emotions. We all have the same beating hearts and inhalation and exhalation of oxygen and carbon dioxide stumbling in and falling out of parted lips. We’ve all felt some sort of romantic, platonic or superficial love. We’ve all had our eyes dimmed and stomach drop. And if we haven’t, we will. We all are the same in many ways and I won’t treat the next person different because no matter how much difference there is some semblance of identical when you look at the next person. Eyes and nose and heart and lungs and tears and smiles.


	7. Dear Zachariah

Dear Zachariah,

 

I sometimes like to think you're looking over my shoulder. Transparent, no human eye able to see your form. Even when your physical being was here, I feel like there was something I couldn't clearly see. 

 

You were the first man I loved.

 

I always saw you in colors. Vibrant oranges and yellows that emitted from you like sun rays, warming my bitter cool. Streaking across me like paint on a black canvas. Greens and browns and blues that created your eyes, the ones I could gaze at for hours. That made me feel like I was laying on a bed of warm grass under the shade of swaying branches, blue sky peeking in through leaves. Pinks and reds, like your soft lips. Like the internal organ of your heart, affection fiery and burning like a fire licking at my own, cold internal.

 

I didn't trust anyone before I met you. You took your fingers and pried open my chest, dug them into my heart and pulled it out. You nurtured it. Fed it sweet words and it drank it up as if it's been deprived of love. Like it hasn't eaten for years.

 

My head was a jumble of secrets and resentments, but I feel like you know all them now. They're written across my flesh and flowing off me like waves. You are invisible and I am a book that you can read every page to.

 

It's unfortunate that you can only consume them into your head as a ghost.

 

Sometimes I fear you. Like you knowing every thing I do, every detail and secret could make you love me less. I know this is false. Your unconditional love for me is like a warm blanket wrapped around my frame. Heating me and filling me with so much comfort and consolation. God, I even feel it now.

 

I wonder if it'd be easier if I left. They say when old couples lose their soulmates, they can die from a broken heart. I remember when I got the news. How I fell to my knees, heart a drum in my ears. How the tears openly fell and rolled down my tan cheeks. A consistent stream that didn't stop for days, weeks, months later. I felt my heart break and I never thought it could be mended.

 

I thought you'd be my forever. Sometimes I still do, it's a concealed secret kept between the space of my ears. One I never tell. How one day I hope we will be reunited. A secret crush, though I don't know how well it's hidden.

 

I see you in my dreams, I feel you in my heart and in my legs. You're all over me and consuming me, and I don't think I'll ever be able to rid off you. You're like a disease and I don't think I can ever get you to go away, as long as I can remember.

 

I love you.


	8. Alone

I hate the expectation and pressure  
Of romantic relationships and settling  
I wish, no...crave to be comfortable alone

And yet I dig my nails into the nearest human being that will validate my existence

Society puts too much emphasis  
In love and we and us and together  
And not a lot of praise towards   
Me and I and myself

We are social creatures  
But there is something  
There is something fixating in being able to lay in bed at night  
Not having to fight over the comforter or  
Crave another’s fingers curled around your sides—no, heart

Wrapped around your heart  
Wrapped around your brain your heart your throat

There is something about being alone  
That I crave and maybe it’s just

The idea of not having those fingers prying into territory that is sacred and special and mine

All mine

I crave alone  
I am not brave enough to be alone

And that will ultimately be my downfall


End file.
